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<title>MAG 142: Scrutiny by hospitality</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23478604">MAG 142: Scrutiny</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hospitality/pseuds/hospitality'>hospitality</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Archivist Angst, Basically a rewrite of the end of Scrutiny but Jon is there, Gen, angst ensues, season 4, the jonmartin is subtle but its there</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:40:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,502</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23478604</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hospitality/pseuds/hospitality</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Jon hadn't been away when Jess Terrell gave her statement?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood &amp; Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>MAG 142: Scrutiny</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“He’s all eyes. He’s<em> all. Eyes.</em>”</p>
<p>When Jon heard the words, he froze. He had just been passing by, and the door was open just a crack, but it was enough.</p>
<p>He knew exactly who that voice belonged to. And, in an awful moment of realization and dread, he knew exactly<em> who</em> she was talking about, too.</p>
<p>He jumped back, not wanting to be seen, and listened further. Martin was trying to reassure the women who had been talking, her quiet tones veer towards sobs. This was a statement. She was making a statement. About <em>him.</em> He found himself leaning against the wall for support, his head spinning. He remembered that afternoon so clearly. Jess Terrell, the woman marked by the Buried. Hearing her voice now, he could recall the overpowering pull of that unheard statement, so strong he could barely think. And he hadn’t. Thought. At all. He had just been there for a coffee, just a simple black coffee, but once he saw her it had been as though everything else had simply faded away. At the time it hadn’t felt wrong. At the time, nothing had felt more natural than to simply <em>ask.</em> And it felt <em>good</em>. And – oh god – he had done it again. And again. He sifted through the memories in his mind, their stories still as crystal-clear in his mind as the day he had heard them. When he took a statement he was completely immersed, lost in the ebb and flow of the narrative that he was pulling from their lips. It was only now that he looked back that he noticed how… <em>afraid </em>they had looked. Oh god, he hadn’t thought, hadn’t meant to-</p>
<p>The door opened, and Jess Terrell stepped out.</p>
<p>Before he could react, they were face to face. Her expression when their eyes met was not one that Jon would forget easily.</p>
<p>She cried out in panic and started to back away, tripping over a box of files left in the hallway. She hit the floor hard but didn’t stop, crawling backwards down the corridor. Jon quickly realised that he was blocking the only exit and, as she felt her back press against the solid wall of a dead end, her expression was one of absolute terror.</p>
<p>She screamed at him, her eyes wide.</p>
<p>“Ge- Get away from me!”</p>
<p>Jon just stood in paralysed shock. This was not, of course, the first time he had seen this look of terror plastered across her face since that fateful afternoon. But, looking at her now, he knew with an awful certainty that it hadn’t been the last time she had seen him either. He had watched her re-live what tormented her every single night, but her fear had never been directed at him. At least, he hadn’t thought it had been. Pieces were falling into place before him, and he dreaded the picture they were creating. A flash of unease across a cashier’s face when he met their eyes. The way the researchers kept checking behind them when he entered a room, the hairs on the back of their necks inexplicably prickling. He quickly lowered his gaze and stared intently at the ground, but he could still feel his presence filling the room with his watching, watching, watching. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. What can you say? What sentence could possibly make her understand that he hadn’t meant to, hadn’t-</p>
<p>“Jon?”</p>
<p>Jon’s gaze flicked back to the doorway where Martin now stood, looking at him with tired eyes. Jon took a tentative step towards him, starting to reach out a shaking hand.</p>
<p>“Martin, I- You have to understand, I didn’t want-”</p>
<p>Martin cut him off, but his expression softened as he did so.</p>
<p>“What have you got yourself into, Jon? You can’t <em>do</em> this to people!” He spoke in a sharp whisper, reprimanding but full of exasperated pity. Jon bit his lip and stood still once more, properly looking at Martin for the first time in weeks, maybe even since he had awoken. He looked- different, somehow. Older, by so much more than the six months that had passed. He’d become colder, stood up straighter, didn’t nervously lace his fingers together like he always used to. Jon’s breath hitched in his throat. If he’d been here, he could have helped. If he’d just made his decision sooner, answered Martin’s plea instead of Oliver’s. But he hadn’t, and now he was just one more problem for Martin to deal with.</p>
<p>Martin was cautiously approaching the cowering woman, offering a hand to help her up. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize he was around. I promise he’s not going to hurt you.”</p>
<p>As she shakily got to her feet, Jon tried his best not to meet her eyes.</p>
<p>She was crying now, tears streaming down her face in droves. He started to back away down the corridor, get out before he could do any more damage than he already had, but before he could make it more than a few steps she called out to him. Her words were so thick with sobs that they were barely intelligible.</p>
<p>“Why are you doing this to me?”</p>
<p>There was silence for a long moment. When he did speak it was quiet, uncertain.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, I just… I couldn’t help it. I-” Couldn’t he? Could he have just walked away? It was hard to untangle the threads, hard to tell where he ended and the Beholding begun. His voice cracked as tears started to trickle down his own cheeks. “I can’t take it back. I can’t stop the dreams. I’m so, so sorry.”</p>
<p>The woman’s sobbing had stopped. Whatever she had expected from him, it certainly wasn’t this. Her eyes darted uneasily between the two figures before her as she took a deep, shaky breath, speaking slowly and warily.</p>
<p>“What <em>are</em> you?”</p>
<p>Jon let out a short, dry laugh, utterly devoid of humour.</p>
<p>“I wish I knew.”</p>
<p>What was he? Certainly not human, that much had become clear, but there weren’t words to describe what had been substituted in its place. He felt sharper, more focused, like his thoughts and vision had been muffled behind a thick fog his whole life and it had only now cleared. He could feel the archives around him, feel the statements breathing weakly in their boxes and files. Feel the presence of Melanie, Basira and Daisy among the endless shelves. He wondered what they would make of this, when Martin inevitably had to tell them. Martin’s reaction would probably seem like a mercy in comparison to what they would do to him. Despair washed over him in a wave of sudden apathy, his anxiety giving way to passive emptiness. He had nothing left to lose except the people around him, and now he was going to lose them, too.</p>
<p>His thoughts were interrupted by Martin moving between the two of them holding his hands up in a mediating gesture.</p>
<p>“I- uh, I don’t think-”</p>
<p>He turned to Jon, quietly and urgently whispering.</p>
<p>“Don’t you think that maybe it’s a bad idea to tell people- ” He glanced at Jess Tyrell, then back to Jon. “- Y’know!”</p>
<p>Jon’s didn’t reply, his eyes glassy.</p>
<p>From her expression it was clear that Jess was already putting the pieces together. She had, no doubt, looked up the Institute before coming here, and was only now connecting the dots. She looked to Martin, watched how he was looking at Jon with concern written all over his face. Her fear sharpened into an all-consuming fury. Concern? Concern, for this… <em>thing</em> that had ruined her life with a single meeting? She turned on him with rage in her eyes.</p>
<p>“You knew this? You knew this, and you just <em>let</em> him?”</p>
<p>Martin was bewildered for a moment, but quickly regained his composure.</p>
<p>“He’s never done anything like this before. We’ll- do our best to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”</p>
<p>She looked incredulous. “You’ll <em>do your best</em>? My life is ruined and you’ll <em>do your best?</em>” She pointed an accusatory finger at Jon, who still stood mutely before them. “Do something about your weird little Institute’s pet horror, or, or I’ll-” She stopped to consider for a second, analysing her limited options. “I’ll tell everyone about this place!”</p>
<p>Martin just gave her a sad smile, back in control of the situation with a chilling certainty that Jon had never seen him utilise before. “I’m afraid they probably wouldn’t believe you.” Jess’s momentarily triumphant expression melted back into fear as he sighed and continued. “Look, why don’t we just-”</p>
<p>He was interrupted by Jess taking off at a sprint down the corridor, pushing violently past the unmoving Jon. Neither moved to stop her as they listened to the door slam shut.</p>
<p>Finally, after what felt like hours, Jon spoke. His voice was strained and cracked, as though it were the first time he’d spoken in months.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>Martin took a deep breath and closed his eyes.</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
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